


Hands Between Your Thighs

by lexi0407



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Coming In Pants, F/M, Friendzone, Masturbation, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexi0407/pseuds/lexi0407
Summary: My first fic so be kind!! credit to movedyourchair505 on tumblr, a legend of am fanfiction, the mind behind ‘My Propeller’ (which semi inspired this), and a sweetie for checking this over for me x





	Hands Between Your Thighs

As the end credits rolled on the film, you shifted restlessly on the cramped couch. Usually it would be more than big enough, but with your lump of a friend sharing, the space seemed considerably smaller. Not that you minded.

With the closing music of the film dying softly, you tipped your head back and enjoyed a second of peace. The living room of your pokey flat was warm and slightly stuffy, and at some point during the film the sun had set, leaving the room lit only by a heavily shaded side lamp. You and Alex had picked and started the film side by side, tray dinners on knees, but with these swiftly discarded and left piled on the coffee table, he had migrated until your legs were entwined between you on the couch, and after a few drinks he had dropped off. The film had been one of his favourites - a 1970s celebration of kitschy tropes and washed-out colour palettes - but as his body weight slumped more heavily between your stretched legs, and his breathing settled, you were loathe to wake him, and now as the television fell silent, your attention zeroed in on his warmth.

Maybe the third glass of wine had been a mistake.

Reluctantly, you realised you couldn’t sit here forever admiring his half-silhouette - regardless of how tempting that might be.

’Alex!’, you whispered, jabbing him with a toe in the side, where his t-shirt had risen up slightly. ‘Al, the film’s ended.’

Stretching slightly, Alex shifted his weight out from between your legs.

’Was’ tha’ love?’, his voice hoarse and slow with sleep.

’The film’s over Alex, I think you were out for a while there,’ you taunted gently.

’Shite. Never mind, it’s not like I haven’ seen it enough times,’ he grinned ruefully, ‘Sorry love bu’ I’d best be off. Busy day tomorrow. Things to do, people to see, tha’ knows.’ Now his grin grew teasing, sharpening as he stood to gather his coat, and turned as he reached the door.

’More important than me?’, you - only half exaggeratedly - pouted, as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway outside your flat.

’’Fraid so’, he chuckled, before turning down the dark hall and disappearing. Grumpily rising from the couch to close the door behind him, you shouted after his retreating figure,

’Fuck you, Turner!’

A hoarse laugh replied, ’Love you, too!’ he called back, flipping a finger back at you over his shoulder, as you huffily shut the door and returned to the warmth of the couch.

 

 

If only that were true, if only he meant it when he said that. Ok, maybe he did mean it, but in your heart of hearts you knew that no matter how much he ‘loved’ you, your movie nights together, your effortless conversation always teetering on a dangerous precipice between teasing and flirting - of which he was apparently oblivious - the way he loved you would never match the rush of adrenaline and flush of blood you fought to cover every time he entered a room or flashed up on your phone, the way you could pick him out from a crowd - pick his voice from a crowd - in seconds, the way your dingey flat never felt more like home than when he slept beside you in front of his favourite film.

You knew Alex had never gone in for groupies and casual relationships, but for the first time in years he seemed properly happy being single. What gave you the right to interfere with that? You of all people, his best friend? He had always made time for you in his insane schedule, and how could you risk jeopardising that? 

Fuck. Only you could go falling in love with your world-renowned heart-throb rock-star best friend. Your world-renowned heart-throb rock-star best friend and his long, clever fingers and the music they made, and the careful, structural beauty of the harsh angles of his face, and your play-fighting and play-flirting and his smell of smoke and cologne and the wine you’d been drinking lingering in your flat and his weightand his warmth between your legs as he slept-

Fuck.

The surge of fondness was quickly swallowed by a wave of lust. 

Those fingers you loved to watch make music, those lips that expressed him so clearly and yet so convolutedly, those long legs and strong thighs and compact, sinewy strength. You wanted him. You wanted those fingers on your skin, brushing and bruising, the lips on your own and on your body, the strength holding you as you fell apart and the scent of him and the sounds of his breathing enveloping you.

Your breathing hitched.

Surely you couldn’t? He was your best friend.

You could though. He would never know, and it’s not as if it would really be any different from any other time you’d do it.

Fuck it.

Heart rate picking up, you ran one finger down from your jaw to your collarbone, before lifting your shirt with the other hand. Tugging it over your head, you exposed your chest to the warm air of the flat, and Alex’s familiar, residual scent. With one hand, you cupped a breast, and with the second you began to roll the other nipple, gently and slowly twisting and tweaking until it grew tight and hard. Continuing to knead the now erect nipple, the other hand began to trace your stomach, slowly undoing the belt of your jeans and softly scraping nails over the exposed skin as you kicked them off.

Lying back on the couch, revelling in Alex’s residual body heat, you spread your legs and palmed both breasts harshly, kneading and rolling until both nipples were hard and swollen in the warm air. As one hand continued to tweak and pinch at the erect nubs, the other pushed down across your hips, brushing your hipbones and reaching to remove your underwear.

Now fully bare and exposed to the flat, you slipped one middle finger down your mound, grazing your core and pushing softly into the slit to feel for the wetness that gathered there, threatening to drip down your thighs. Could you really be this turned on just from feeling his body beside yours?

 

 

As the lift shuddered to a halt at the ground floor, Alex felt into his back pocket for his keys. 

Shit.

The pocket was empty, as was the other. In his mind’s eye, Alex saw his keys clear as day, discarded on the low coffee table beside the tray dinners. He could always go home and pick them up tomorrow? No, stupid. How was he going to get in with his keys still in your flat?

There was nothing for it, he’d have to go back up and grab them. If only he hadn’t fallen asleep, if only the two of you hadn’t become quite so tangled as he slept. If only he hadn’t been repressing his feelings for you for what felt like forever, and if only the warmth of you around him as he slept hadn’t caused quite the reaction it had. A hasty retreat had been his only option, in considerable discomfort.

God help him, how could a man be expected to handle your brilliance, your warmth, your endless pragmatism and patience and practicality, your cutting humour and your gentle comfort, without loosing his mind? It’s like playing with fire, at some point, he was bound to get burned, and it was damn near a miracle he’d made it this far.

You were his best friend.

You had been there for him since the earliest days, you’d grounded him, you’d pushed him, you’d been a constant in a chaotic and turbulent life. How could he jeopardise that? If only he could stop thinking with his dick for five minutes, maybe it would be safe to run back for the keys. The fucking keys.

As the lift whirred back up to the top of the block of flats, to the flat he spent more time at these days than in his own home, nearly, Alex willed himself to calm down. Deep breaths... think of anything else... don’t think of your teasing and your pouting and your wine-tipsy giggle and- Shit. The lift doors opened at your floor, and Alex, no calmer than when he had left, and still as hard as nails, approached your flat.

 

 

Drawing near to the door, Alex psyched himself up to go in. He’d just grab the keys, make a joke, and go.

The handle gave first try, typical, he rolled his eyes. Just like you to forget to lock the door after him.

Cracking the door open and stepping in, Alex caught the tail end of a throaty moan.

What the fuck was that? Were you ok? Were you hurt? Calling your name softly, Alex closed the door quietly, grabbing the keys, and stepping further into the room, towards the couch.

In the light of the lamp, as he drew closer, Alex saw you sprawled on the couch, approaching just in time to catch a bitten off gasp.

Mind reeling, Alex didn’t know where to look. On the couch he had vacated only minutes before, you now lay, one leg hooked over the back, pale and arched in the gloom, the other stretched almost to the carpet. Your jeans and shirt were flung over the back of the couch, and a pair of lace underwear still caught over a dangling ankle.

As Alex took in what he was seeing, your back arched wildly, and a low groan filled the room, as one of your hands grasped a breast, the other working furiously between your thighs.

’Fook,’ he breathed, the shock and arousal clouding his voice exacerbating his heavy accent.

Your heart stopped. Had you imagined that? Eyes flying open, you scrambled to grab at your clothes.

’What the fuck are you doing back?’, you hissed, ‘I thought you were headed home?’.

’I-I was but I forgot me uh- me keys. I were jus’ comin’ to grab ‘em and the door were open so I jus’...’ he trailed off, furiously flushed and averting his eyes.

’How long were you watching?’, you cried.

’Only a second, I swear it were an accident, I only just walked in. I’m properly sorry, I really am, I jus’-‘ he spluttered. Sighing, you rolled onto your front to cover yourself as best as possible,

’No, I should be the one saying sorry. I should have locked the door, I should have waited longer after you went, I shouldn’t even be doing this...’, blushing deeply, you soldiered on, ‘I’m sorry you saw that, I just - I just forgot to lock the door I guess and I’m so embarrassed-‘

’Don’t be.’

Had you heard him right? ‘What?’

’Dont be, embarrassed. It’s uh- natural. We all do it, tha’ knows?’ He chuckled awkwardly and you struggled to meet his eyes. ‘Look, it’s your fla’, I’m just the mug who forgot me keys, it’s none of my business if you want to get yeself off in it-‘

’Alex!’, you cried, more embarrassed than ever. What kind of pervert did he think you were, barely able to wait five minutes after a guest left before fucking yourself right there on the couch?

’No, I mean it, is no’ my business. Forge’ I saw anything. I’ve got my bloody keys now, I’ll be off and you... carry on I ‘spose...’, managing a chuckle. As he headed towards the door, about to leave, he turned back.

’By the way, don’t you go worryin’ I’ve got you marked as some dirty little pervert now,’ inflecting the words with as much humour as his shock and arousal addled brain could muster, ‘personally, I think it were pretty fuckin’ hot.’ He turned into the hall, cursing his own stupidity. Way to go, humiliate the girl and then add some light harassment just to really finish it off. Nice one Turner.

He thought it was hot? He thought you were hot? Crap. What if this was your one chance?

 

 

‘Alex...’ you shakily called after him as he began to close the door behind him.

‘Love?’

‘You - you don’t have to go. You know, if you don’t want.’

Shit. His face reappeared at the crack in the door, half stepping back into the flat. His eyes were wide - his big, beautiful, dark eyes that you loved so much - and a slight frown crumpled his forehead.

‘Wha’s tha’ love?’

‘If you wanted to - I mean it’s stupid but - if you wanted to you could always, uh, stick around.’ A wide grin split his face, erasing all traces of his frown.

‘Babe, are you sayin’ you wan’ me to stay... and watch yeh... Watch yeh get yehself off?’

‘Only if - if that’s something you want, Al...’ What had you done? What if he didn’t want to and you’d ruined everything? What if he did want to?

‘Love I’ve already told you I think it’s hot tha’ yeh goin’ at it like tha’...’ His confidence failed him as he stepped back into the flat, approaching the couch where you lay, staring up at him. ‘An’ I think tha’ if you... were into it... I would love teh stay an’ watch.’

This was happening.

Shit.

This was happening.

With a small smile, you inclined your head, gesturing for him to resume his seat beside you on the sofa, still covering yourself with your arms.

‘Don’t be shy love, it’s jus’ me,’ he leant back against the opposite arm of the sofa, one leg folded over the other, only the incessant tap of his long fingers on his knee betraying that he was just as nervous - and worked up - as you, ‘An’ anyway, after tha’ little display I already know just how fookin’ filthy yeh are - so I wouldn’t worry abou’ tha’.’ His voice was low and reassuring, despite the flush blazing across his face. 

‘Alright then Al, you asked for it...’

Closing your eyes and steadying your breathing, you slowly withdrew your hands from your body, exposing your taught nipples and lifting your knees, allowing your legs to fall apart. Ignoring the slow intake of breath from Alex, and the shift in his weight, you allowed your fingertips to slowly work over your chest, toying with each breast and slowly circling, teasing. Might as well slow it right down, if this was going to ruin everything between you, you might as well savour the moment.

Continuing to cup your breasts, you stole a glance through your eyelashes at Alex. His flush had spread down his pale neck and along his high cheekbones. His eyes were dark with lust, and his breathing had grown fast and irregular.

Maybe his hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

Emboldened by Alex’s obvious arousal, you allowed a hand to move down between your thighs, spreading your legs wider. ‘Is this doing it for you Al?’, your voice came out breathy and embarrassingly high, but you were beyond the point of no return, ‘You liking watching me fuck myself?’, you forced yourself to hold his gaze as a finger gathered your wetness and began to circle your clit.

‘I think yeh know I am love,’ he swallowed, ‘Are yeh- are yeh thinking abou’ me?’

You moaned, nodding weakly. This was maybe the best idea you’d ever had.

‘I be’ yeh we’re thinkin’ abou’ me earlier, too, reyt? When I walked in?’

Again, you nodded, words out of reach as your fingers rubbed tightly in just the right spot.

‘Fook. Jus’ after I’d left an’ all. Was tha’ it? Did me asleep so close teh yeh get yeh all flustered? So much tha’ you couldn’t even wait five minutes to star’ fantisizin’?’

You chuckled dryly, ‘You caught me Turner, I’m a filthy sex pest who gets off thinking about my best mate when he’s - when he’s barely left the room, just from him sleeping beside me.’

‘Don’t worry love,’ you opened your eyes, which you had shut to allow the rhythm of your strokes and the timbre of his baritone to envelop you, just in time to catch his fierce grin, ‘Yeh weren’t the only one, I were beside mehself,’ laughing at your puzzled face, he added, ‘Why do yeh think I left so quick, eh?’ Shifting his legs, Alex uncrossed his legs, revealing an unmistakable bulge underneath the faded denim. Breathing still ragged, watching you rock on your fingers, he groaned, ‘Seeing as tha’ makes us both filthy sex pests, I think yeh might as well let go for me.’

Feeling his hot gaze on your body, you let out a low keen, letting two fingers slip inside your heat, locking your eyes with his as you felt your muscles growing tight around yourself. Throwing your head back you let his voice wash over you, his words barely registering beyond soothing encouragement, but the raspy edgy to them betraying that he was coming undone nearly as fast as you.

‘Tha’s it love, tha’s it. Yeh look so bloody good, yeh’ve no idea... next time tha’ll be me love, me makin’ yeh feel good -‘ trailing off hoarsely.

Next time? Oh Jesus.

That tipped you over the edge, Alex’s voice and warmth and smell, his praise and his promise of a next time - where he would be the one pulling you apart... You’re muscles began to clench and the flat fell silent, save for your quiet chant of his name like a prayer and his stuttering breaths.

 

 

After a moment of silence, you reopened your eyes. Had that just happened? Pulling your shirt and underwear back into place, you curled up against one arm of the couch, watching Alex but afraid to speak, and risk breaking the spell.

‘Fook. Come here love.’ He pulled you over to him, settling you with your back against his still heaving chest and your hips between his thighs, his strong arms looped around your waist. How had you ever felt the flat was home? Home was here. Home had always been here. ‘Tha’ were fucking spectacular babeh.’ he growled playfully in your ear.

You giggled, ‘It was quite something, wasn’t it? You seemed to enjoy it, anyway.’ With a glance up at him, you added, ‘Did you need a hand?’

Alex flushed, almost darker than he had minutes before.

‘Actualleh love, it sort of - took care of itself?’

Did he mean-?

‘You did not jizz your pants.’

He flushed.

‘Fucking hell Turner are you fifteen?’ you laughed, ‘Don’t worry, I like that you enjoyed it. As a great man once said, “personally, I think it were pretty fuckin’ hot.’l He groaned at your ropey impersonation, but wrapped his arms tighter around you until your head lay on one of his shoulders.

‘Didn’t I always say yeh make me feel like a teenager babeh? And tha’s why now I’ve got yeh, I won’t be lettin’ yeh go.’

 


End file.
